Safiyah Neferet vs. The Morrigan - Goddesses of War

[BlackAkuma]

Up they went, and down they came. The Morrigan might not have had the deft movements of Safiyah to work with, and she didn’t have Sabine’s flawless technique, but she brought power to the table - raw, unrelenting power. She’d had to endure no small amount of punishment to properly use it, but, as it was with so many things, it all came down to timing. And people said she wasn’t patient.

It all paid off as she brought Safiyah crashing into the mat, finally getting some payback. The spinebuster was hardly the most devastating move in her arsenal, but it did the trick just fine here, putting her opponent down in a hurry and seizing the advantage

The Morrigan wiped her mouth as she sat up and enjoyed the sight of her opponent laying before, wrecked for the moment. With her stunned like this, the door was wide open - she could go pull her into some submission move, go for a pinfall, or just straddle her chest and rain down the punches. Tempting avenues, all.

Or they would have been, in a regular match. This was hentai, she needed an orgasm first. Pleasure, not pain. But she wouldn’t be much of a dominatrix if she didn't know how to do both at the same time, would she?

The Morrigan slid forward, crawling over Safiyah’s body like a panther on the prowl. She mounted her waist, pressed her forearm against the woman’s chest, and leaned in, applying her weight to pin her down, bringing their faces closer and closer.

”Mine.”

That was all the warning she gave before she dove in, taking Safiyah’s lips with a fierce, smothering kiss, letting her tongue thrust in deep and go wild. At the same time, she went for a little quick payback, as she attempted to drive a few quick punches into the woman’s side, targeting her ribs. It wouldn’t square them up from all the kicks, but it was a start.

[Lightman]

The mat still reverberated beneath her from the impact, the ache across her spine making every slight movement feel heavier than it should. Morrigan’s weight descended before her body had truly recovered, pressing down with deliberate dominance, a force that smothered rather than simply restrained. Safiyah felt the woman’s forearm against her chest, her hips pinned beneath the larger frame, the breath forced shallow.

Her mismatched gaze lifted, unflinching even as Morrigan closed the distance. Lips met hers, fierce and consuming, the kiss searing in its force. The tongue pressed forward, searching for control, as fists found their target in her ribs. Sharp shocks of pain rippled through her side with each blow, forcing a sound past her throat, half gasp, half growl, but never submission.

Her hands rose in answer. One pressed against Morrigan’s jaw, not enough to break the kiss entirely but to twist the angle, to rob it of its perfect claim. The other slid low, along Morrigan’s side, fingers curling against taut muscle as she shifted her hips beneath, searching for leverage. It was not strength she had to offer but precision, the steady grind of technique against raw power.

“Never.”

Her legs moved next. Bare feet slid against the canvas, her body arching despite the weight upon her. She coiled like a serpent beneath the war goddess, her thigh brushing sharply against Morrigan’s hip as she angled for space, her ankle hooking at the crook of Morrigan’s knee in an effort to destabilise her mount.

Every movement was strained beneath the smothering hold, each breath taken at cost, but still Safiyah shifted, turned, tested. She could not stop the storm in one motion, not against such brute force, but she could resist it, slow it, deny Morrigan the full satisfaction of her dominance.

The pain in her ribs burned with every exhale, but her gaze remained fixed, even beneath the chaos above her.

[BlackAkuma]

The Morrigan’s body collided with Safiyah’s in a violent parody of passion, slamming together so hard that the skin clapped. It wasn’t only satisfying for the obvious reasons, not just because she was getting her domination kink of - that was a big reason, but not the sole one. No, it was more than a little satisfying to be on top of the woman who’d battered her up to this point, to draw out some pain from her. Safiyah had taken such pride in this otherworldly veneer of hers, and Morrigan was going to have so much fun obliterating it.

She took her place, claimed Safiyah’s mouth, and rained down both pain and pleasure, all while she enjoyed the sensation of her opponent’s body against her own, sliding about, pressing, thrusting, grinding. The Morrigan had a deep chuckle.

Credit where it was due, Safiyah was putting up a fight, and a damned good one. While it wouldn’t be enough for her to escape, it was making it nigh-impossible for things to get as erotic as Morrigan needed them to, which meant the Egyptian needed a little more seasoning. Not a problem.

The Morrigan began to rise up, but she didn’t stop the kiss - no, she wrapped her arms around the woman’s neck and brought her along, lifting her off the canvas, holding her close in a violent lover’s embrace. She used her full crushing force to keep Safiyah in place, but that wasn’t the real attack. What came next was.

All at once, Morrigan jerked up, arched her back, pulled Safiyah along, and released her at the apex, attempting to send her flying with a crude variation of the belly-to-belly suplex. Call it a ‘Kissplex’. ”Fly!”

[Lightman]

The slam of body against body rattled through her frame, a brutal intimacy that blurred the line between violence and desire. Morrigan’s mouth seized hers again, heavy with force, the kiss fierce, smothering, and unyielding, the weight of her chest pressing down while fists dug sharp into her ribs. The impact of every motion jarred her frame, the weight and rhythm designed not just to restrain but to erode, to claim. Pain and heat spread together, each strike breaking rhythm with the fever of the kiss. Safiyah bore it with shallow breaths, the smouldering taste of her opponent lingering on her tongue.

Her body slid against Morrigan’s, trapped beneath the grind of boots and muscle, every movement forced against her will. Yet she resisted. Her hands found their way to Morrigan’s shoulders, fingers tight, testing the tension in her hold, the subtle flex that betrayed strength over balance. Her legs shifted, every small movement resisting, resisting, resisting.

When Morrigan rose, dragging her up in that clinging embrace, Safiyah’s ribs screamed under the pressure, but her heterochromatic eyes stayed unyielding. Their lips were still bound, the kiss twisted into a shackle, forcing her closer with every breath. She could feel the power gathering in her opponent’s body, the sudden coil of muscle before the release.

She knew what was coming. The release. The slam. The spectacle.

Her feet left the mat. The momentum came, sharp and sudden, her body flung outward in a crude version of a belly-to-belly suplex. For the briefest moment, the world tilted, canvas spinning beneath her, gravity promising ruin. Safiyah’s core tightened, her limbs extended, instinct honed through endless training answering for her. She twisted, shifting in the air, body turning with fluid precision.

She landed lightly, barefoot soles slapping the canvas, knees bent to absorb the fall. The impact rattled up her legs, but she remained upright, with a faint sway the only betrayal of the suplex’s force. She straightened slowly, hair falling about her face, chest rising and falling as she reset her stance. For all the parts of her old self she had shed, for all the weakness and fragility she had buried, her gymnastic grace was something she had kept. And here in the storm of battle, it saved her again.

“Landed.” She pivoted swiftly on her heel, body flowing like water, already setting her stance, prepared to face whatever this war goddess had in store.

[BlackAkuma]

It was almost a shame that they had to fight like this - as much as Morrigan loved violence, a part of her wished she could start this off in a more cordial way, with a little more foreplay. Physically, Safiyah was very much her type: Small but strong, sexy but fierce. She was putting up a cold front, but if he actions in the ring were any indication, that could change in the bedroom.

No matter. They were here now, and she would have that intimacy. She just had to work for it, and Morrigan had never been one to shy away from work.

Safiyah was definitely making her work for it, too, and forcing her to reach deeper into her bag than she had ever expected to. The woman fought every step of the way, and pulling out this cute variation was a wild experiment, but Morrigan executed it and showed her creative side. Worked like a charm.

Or she thought, right up until the moment she heard - or didn’t hear - that earth-shattering kaboom. Safiyah was light, but she wasn’t that light. An impact with her body should’ve made more noise. It was almost like she hadn't hit at all, as if-

From her back, Morrigan looked up and confirmed that, yes, Safiyah had landed on her feet. Like a goddamn cat, this one. ”Cheeky.”

After all that, she wasn’t about to go back to pussyfooting with Safiyah once again - no, she’d tried that already, and her blood was too hot for that, now. Instead, she rolled over, scrambled up to her feet, and charged headlong towards her opponent at a full sprint. She waited until she was close enough, then threw her entire body at her foe with arms wides, looking to tackle her and take her through the ropes.

[Lightman]

The silence between them was brief, a charged pause where sweat and breath filled the air heavier than words ever could. Safiyah could feel the heat of Morrigan’s presence even across the ring, the goddess’s aura pressing outward like a storm cloud ready to break. A pressure meant to crush, to bend opponents before the fight had even touched them. Yet she stood still, bare toes pressing into the canvas, unshaken. Her body was calm, but her mind was alive, calculating, each heartbeat in rhythm with the storm that approached.

Morrigan’s body surged forward with frightening speed, her boots pounding against the canvas as if the ring itself was too small to contain her. The charge carried with it the kind of reckless force only a true powerhouse could summon, the kind that would drive through bone and sinew without pause. Arms spread wide, the goddess of war meant to crush her, tackle her clean through the ropes, a storm of muscle and momentum bearing down.

Safiyah did not flinch. She watched, calm and sharply, her mismatched eyes narrowing just enough to read the timing. At the last heartbeat before impact, she sprang. Her bare feet left the mat, body rising with explosive grace, and in that split-second she planted her sole against Morrigan’s head, the contact sharp and fleeting. She would push off, launching higher, her frame folding into a fluid flip above the oncoming charge.

[BlackAkuma]

The Morrigan wasn’t known for her speed, but she could move fast when she needed to. She had the dwarf thing going on - fast of short distance, a natural sprinter. Her legs had good explosive speed. Sure, Safiyah could run circles around her at long range, but this close, with this little room to move, she had no doubts. She could catch her. If she tried to dodge left or right, Morrigan could just snatch her up. There was nowhere to go.

Nowhere but up.

By the time she registered what the woman was doing, it was already too late - she was in the air, flying overhead, and her foot was planted against her skull. It didn’t hurt all that much, but that wasn’t the problem. Her momentum couldn't be stopped at this point, too much and too hard. She was going through the ropes, anyway.

The Morrigan tumbled out of the ring, and would’ve flopped all the way to the floor if she hadn't grabbed the ropes on the way down. She clung tight and pulled her way up to stand on the apron, but she was still dazed from the tumble and needed a second to gather her bearings.

[Lightman]

The canvas was still humming beneath her bare feet from the charge Morrigan had unleashed; the vibrations rolling up her legs like a warning from Mother Nature. Safiyah had felt that kind of force before, the sort that tried to swallow everything in its path, but she had slipped over it, untouchable, her body answering with instinct sharper than thought.

Safiyah’s chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, the faintest sheen of sweat clinging to her skin, but her gaze was fixed sharply on the woman now clinging to the apron. Morrigan’s tumble had bought her only a moment, and even then, the goddess’s stubborn grip had spared her from falling flat to the floor. Impressive as it was, she would not waste time admiring the recovery. Hesitation was weakness, and weakness was something she had shed long ago.

Her bare feet shifted lightly across the canvas, toes curling against it for balance as her weight rolled onto the balls of her feet. The air between them was heavy, taut with expectation. Morrigan was gathering herself, shaking free the fog, and if Safiyah allowed her the chance, that monstrous strength would come crashing back with all its fury.

No. Safiyah would not allow it.

Her body moved before thought could slow it. She lunged towards the ropes, hands brushing the top strand as she leapt into the air, every muscle in her frame alive with coiled precision. She twisted, spine arching as her body spun mid-flight, the motion pulling her into a tight corkscrew. Her leg snapped outward, bare foot slicing through the air with merciless intent, lined up to crack against Morrigan’s skull.

It was all fluid, all one motion. The gymnastic elegance she had never abandoned brought into perfect synchronicity with her honed violence. If it struck clean, the power of the spin could send Morrigan toppling from the apron to the unforgiving ground below.

No peace, no reprieve. Only the storm.

[BlackAkuma]

As much as Morrigan wanted to be happy that she’d managed to even get in some small amount of advantage over Safiyah, having it snatched away from her so easily made it all the more vexing. She’d had the woman a moment ago, on top and in control, and she’d hoped to keep it that way for a little while, but she slipped through her fingers. It was an unforgivable failing.

Next time she got Safiyah down, she wouldn’t be getting up…if she got that chance.

Right now, odds were looking sketchy. Though she was a bit stunned, she had enough wherewithal to know that Safiyah would be looking to follow up and take advantage, but she couldn't see how with her current position cutting out some of the best options.

She didn’t - couldn’t - account for what came next, as Safiyah came flying out of the ring like a whirling dervish. By the time Morrigan registered the movement, it was far too late to stop it, and she wound up taking a hard kick across the face, right on the cheek. The blow hit like a thunderclap, and the tenuous grasp she had on the ropes vanished. Down she went.

It wouldn’t have the most pleasant feeling on a normal ringside floor, but Morrigan hadn't panned out her dungeon like those were, so she only had unforgiving stone to fall on. She landed with a splat, her flesh smacking the floor, and came to rest near her wall of toys. This time she stayed down for a moment, her backaching too much for movement.

[Lightman]

Safiyah landed lightly on her feet after the strike, the faint smack of bare soles against the stone swallowed by the far harsher sound of Morrigan’s body crashing into it. The echo of her foot connecting with Morrigan’s jaw still lingered in her leg, a sharp pulse that told her the hit had been true. For one as slight as Safiyah to topple a giant like Morrigan with nothing but a cleanly placed kick was a particular satisfaction. Bringing truth to why precision trumped brute force, why timing and control could bring even the strongest crashing down.

The goddess had been brought down from her throne, sprawled out near the wall where her indulgences were kept. For all her strength, all her fury, she was still only flesh when struck in the right place. Safiyah knew that better than most.

She stood above her for a moment, chest rising and falling steadily, her mismatched eyes locked on Morrigan as she writhed in discomfort. A faint part of her wanted to speak, taunt, and return the words Morrigan had spoken earlier. But breath wasted on mockery was breath not spent in action. And Safiyah had no intention of wasting anything.

Her gaze slid to the collection of toys lining the wall, each a unique weapon cloaked in disguise. She had no shame in using them. In this match, they were as legitimate as fists and feet, and perhaps more cutting. A simple choice presented itself: something that would wound her pride, rob her of composure, and turn that brute strength into trembling weakness.

Her hand extended, fingers brushing over floggers and paddles before curling around a smooth, long object that vibrated faintly at the touch of its switch. A wand. Not meant to leave bruises or blood, but to unseat control, to reduce a fighter to something needy and distracted. For someone like Morrigan, who thrived on dominance, it was the cruellest tool available.

Safiyah held it in her grip, tested its weight, and flicked the switch once, letting the low hum fill the air. Her lips curved ever so slightly, a cold ghost of a smile.

“Fitting.”

She stepped closer to her fallen opponent, positioning between the legs of the war goddess. With a single sweep of her legs, her feet spread those legs wide, letting what's between be left uncovered and free. The wand lowered and ready, prepared to press it against Morrigan’s body before the goddess could recover her footing.